


In the Ways That Matter

by FleetofShippyShips



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexual Harry Potter, Asexuality, Asexuality Spectrum, Getting Together, HP: EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Mentions of Alcoholism Recovery, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-03-22 12:48:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13764522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FleetofShippyShips/pseuds/FleetofShippyShips
Summary: Falling asleep with Harry Potter mid-argument, while completely pissed, was something Draco could never have predicted happening when he returned for his repeat seventh-year at Hogwarts. But it happened. And then it happened again. And again. At some point the alcohol was gone, and they were just falling asleep side by side night after night, escaping nightmares together.It isn't anything more than that, even if sometimes it really feels like it is.





	In the Ways That Matter

**Author's Note:**

> So I claimed the prompt 'one of the two is asexual (but not sex-repulsed)'. I enjoyed writing for this prompt, as it's something I've been wanting to write for a while. I hope that you enjoy it!

“Can’t sleep?”

Draco doesn’t even bother to look at him, as he settles heavily on the couch by the fireplace. The common room is dark, lit only by the fire. He can’t even really see Harry. Just the outline of a seated person a few shades lighter than the darkness near the back of the room. Near the bookshelves. Seamus likes to hide alcohol there, but Draco tries not to think about that. He kicked that habit he’d learned over summer. It was that or get kicked out of Hogwarts. More than one student had been already.

“Didn’t I tell you to leave me alone?” he says at last, sinking fully into the couch, letting his head rest back against the back of it.

“Since when do I do anything you say?” Harry asks, a thread of amusement in his tone.

It brings a smile to Draco’s lips before he can stop himself. The progression of their relationship over the years is such a joke now. Maybe it should have been harder to get to where they are now. They can talk without cursing each other. They can insult each other without it starting a serious fight.

He calls him ‘Harry’ in his mind now, even if it’s still ‘Potter’ out loud most of the time.

Maybe they could have always been like this, if they had just started a little differently. Or if the war had never happened.

But that’s not worth thinking about. All those thoughts of ‘what if...’ and ‘could have been...’ had led to his brush with alcoholism over summer. And those terrible first few months of this second chance at a N.E.W.T. year.

“Well if you must speak to me, at least say something intelligent,” he says, closing his eyes. “If I’m walking around at this hour, clearly I can’t sleep.”

The logs in the fire shift with a crackle and hiss. It must have masked the sound of Harry getting up, because suddenly there are footsteps close to the couch.

“Small talk,” Harry says, as he settles beside Draco on the couch.

Draco makes a little snort of laughter, and cracks an eye open to peer sideways at him. He looks terrible.

“You need lessons,” he says, sweeping his gaze over him, taking in how tired he looks and then closing his eyes again. “‘Remedial Small Talk’, or ‘Conversation for Idiots’.”

A few seconds later, after a rustle of movement, Harry is a warm line against his side. His head is heavy on Draco’s shoulder, and a moment later there is the soft sound of a long sigh. Draco’s next exhale is similar in nature, as tension seeps from his body, and he feels like he can finally relax.

They had been drunk the first time they’d done this. Initiate physical contact. Arguing while too drunk and too tired to even stay awake. Waking propped up against each other had been a shock, but less shocking than how nice it had been.

Not that either of them had admitted to that. But the fact it kept happening had spoken volumes. Then after the alcohol was gone, with all that _that_ had entailed, and the arguing was less frequent, or at least, less hurtful, it had been impossible to ignore. How much they comforted one another.

“You need lessons in being less of a prat,” Harry says.

Draco scoffs. “Where would be the fun in that?” The more prattish he is lately, the more it seems to amuse Harry. Probably because the git can see right through it now.

It’s all the times they’ve fallen asleep propped against each other. It’s the nights they’ve spent awake together until dawn. They’ve gone soft. But he can’t quite bring himself to mind anymore. Not when being with Harry is the only way he ever wakes feeling rested now.

Not when being around Harry makes him happy.

“Did you set a proximity alarm?” Harry mumbles.

Draco nods, and it brushes his chin against Harry’s forehead and makes him shiver. “We’ll have at least thirty seconds warning, depending on how fast they move. It’s just before the first dormitory door.”

They were caught a few times when they had been drunk, and suitably mocked for it. But everyone knew Draco was sober now, even if Harry wasn’t always. It was easier to set alarms and dart away from each other, even if it probably didn’t fool anyone. Easier than trying to explain it, anyway. Most times Harry has his cloak on him, and can hide himself at least.

“I dreamed of fire,” Harry whispers into the silence.

The logs in the fire crack and pop again, and Draco blinks his eyes open. That’s a nightmare they share.

“I dreamed of pain,” he answers. He could say Death Eater meetings to be precise, but he knows Harry will understand anyway.

Harry sighs long and low again, and then his hand finds Draco’s between their thighs, and their fingers lace together. As always, it brings heat to Draco’s cheeks, and makes his stomach twist a little. But it’s dark, and Harry won’t be able to see.

The gesture grounds them both, and Draco can hear Harry’s breathing evening out already. Careful and slow, he tilts his head to the side until it rests on Harry’s. With his body relaxed, and with Harry warm against his side, he feels safer than he ever does in his lonely dormitory. Everyone else gets to share, but he’s all alone in his room. Greg was not allowed to return at the last minute, and Theo was kicked out for starting too many fights.

This night, like so many nights before, it’s on the tip of his tongue to invite Harry back to his room. For them to fall asleep together in a bed, instead of propped up awkwardly. Due to be woken rudely by a proximity alarm when someone gets out of bed and heads towards the common room.

But they don’t have that kind of relationship, even though he wishes they do, so he says nothing. Harry is already asleep anyway, his hold on Draco’s hand loosened, and his breathing slow and quiet.

Draco focuses on the sound, and lets it lull him to sleep as well. Like almost every other night.

 

* * *

 

“Did… did Potter just poke his tongue out at you?”

Draco snorts and shakes his head. “You’re surprised? He’s a complete child.” He looks back to see Harry make the gesture again, his face lighting up with the childish glee he always displays when they tease each other now. Under the table, Draco aims his wand and incants low under his breath.

The whole room turns to look as Harry makes a loud yelping sound, and covers his mouth with his hand. Draco sniggers and turns back to his textbook. He can’t really blame Harry for being a childish brat in theory lessons, they are incredibly boring. But he can do better than poking his tongue out like a toddler.

“What did you do to him?” Daphne whispers, leaning close.

“Cast a cooling charm on his tongue,” Draco answers, glancing up to see Harry screwing up his face in a hilarious expression. No doubt it does feel incredibly weird.

“Creative,” Blaise says from his other side. “I would have transfigured it.”

Draco frowns down at his desk. But to what? And what of the risk of permanent damage? Human transfiguration was hard enough close up, but that far away?

“Too risky,” he says, trying not to think of all the ways that could have gone wrong, and failing. He shivers at the thought of doing any of that to Harry. “I didn’t fight to stay in this stupid school just to get expelled because of Harry Potter’s tongue.”

“That’s a sentence you don’t hear every day,” Daphne says with a snort.

Draco looks back over at Harry and finds him recovered from the spell, and glaring at him. Draco gives him a cocky smile, and then returns to his textbook. He also didn’t fight to stay in the school only to get average grades.

 

* * *

 

Draco’s aimlessly wandering the corridors of the fourth floor when he hears footsteps approaching from behind. There’s no one there when he turns to look. He groans and backs up to one of the walls, keeping his back protected.

“Using that cloak is not fair,” he mutters, holding his wand tightly, a shielding charm on the tip of his tongue, just waiting for the first hint of a spell to block.

“Who ever said I play fair?” It’s a whisper by his left ear, and Draco lunges to that side, arm outstretched. He only just manages to feel a brush of the silky cloak before Harry dances beyond his reach.

On a whim, he puts out the light from his wand, and the corridor plunges into darkness. He can’t see anything, but Harry can’t see him either.

“That’s cheating,” says Harry, somewhere to his right.

“How did you find me?” Draco asks, softening his steps, and trying to listen for any sound that might be Harry.

“That’s a secret.”

Draco turns around and reaches out, but again, all he feels is a brief brush of the cloak before his fingers close around thin air. It occurs to him that this is all very stupid and childish, but his heart is racing, and his nightmare is fading. Harry is good at distracting him. Good at reminding him that there are better things to do than mull over dark thoughts. Even if those better things are childish pranks and stupid insults.

A moment later, there is suddenly fabric around him, and Harry’s chest at his back as he envelops Draco within the cloak. It was already dark, but now it’s darker still.

“You’re invisible now,” Harry whispers against his neck.

Draco shivers, and turns his head. His lips brush along Harry’s cheek, and he aches to shift them lower, but he just leans his head back a little instead. They don’t have that kind of relationship. Even if it often feels as if they do.

“ _Lumos_ ,” he whispers.

His wand is by his side, hanging limply in his hand. He shifts, turning around to face him. Lit from below, Harry barely looks like Harry, the architecture of his face exaggerated by the light.

“I owe you for that cooling charm,” Harry says.

“What are you going to do?” Draco asks, leaning forward until he’s resting his head on Harry’s shoulder and relaxing into him. Harry’s arms loop around him more securely, and it’s still so ridiculous that it’s just so easy.

And it’s still so ridiculous that Draco could stand there like that forever.

“Haven’t decided yet,” Harry mutters, holding him tight.

“Well, you just made me disappear,” Draco comments, wondering what it must look like from the outside. Maybe just a strange circle of light on the floor, peeking out from the bottom of the cloak. “I used to be terrified of disappearing.”

“I used to wish I could disappear,” Harry laughs.

Draco swallows hard. Sometimes he’d wished Harry would disappear too, but the idea horrifies him now. He feels the tiredness setting in again, now that he’s stopped moving, and now that he’s with Harry. But they’re in the middle of a corridor on the fourth floor, in the early hours of the morning.

The last time that had happened, they’d just wandered around until the sun came up, and then spent the day frightening each other awake in class whenever one of them dozed off. He’d made Harry fall out of his chair twice, and Weasley’s expression was even better than Harry’s disgruntled one.

But he hates those nights of no sleep. He hates being so tired, and so cold the next day. It reminds him too much of sleepless nights in a house full of Death Eaters. Nights spent awake hating himself for the things he’d done, even if he knew he would do them again. Even though he knew he’d never really had any viable alternatives in the first place.

“I want to go to sleep,” he says, closing his eyes tight.

“Ernie is passed out in the common room,” Harry says, sounding apologetic.

Draco’s stomach twists, and he bites his lip. The solution is easy, but it will complicate everything. It’s always been an option, but they’ve never even mentioned it before. There are reasons for that, he’s sure. He knows he’s too afraid of spoiling what they have, but he has no idea what Harry’s reasons are, and isn’t sure he wants to find out.

“Did you wake from a nightmare, or could you just not sleep?” Harry asks, one of his hands starting to rub circles on Draco’s back, and then up and down his spine.

The first time he’d done that they’d been drunk, and Draco had slapped him. Harry still likes to bring it up from time to time to have a laugh about it, and it always makes Draco’s face go a bit red. Sometimes he wonders if he killed any chance of this being anything more by being so averse to Harry’s touch at times, before he let himself have the comfort.

“I dreamed I was trapped in my room, all alone, and unable to get out,” he lies, even if he has had that particular nightmare before.

Harry’s hand stops, and Draco holds his breath.

“I keep forgetting you’re alone in your room now.” It doesn’t sound completely honest, but it’s like an opening.

“We could crash in my room tonight,” Draco suggests, as casually as he can while his heart is racing.

Harry is still for a few more moments, then he steps back and pulls the cloak off them. Draco blinks at him, and sees caution on his face. Like he’s aware of just how much this could change things.

“It’s Saturday tomorrow.”

Draco frowns at him. “It’s after midnight, you idiot. It’s already Saturday.”

Harry makes a dismissive gesture, and then starts walking away. “We can sleep in.”

Draco stares after him for half a minute, and then follows, trying to catch up without appearing to be rushing.

 

* * *

 

It’s strange and new, and Draco’s heart is racing. Harry borrows some sleepwear, and teases him about the fabric before he climbs into Draco’s bed. He says something about the sheets, but Draco can hardly hear him over the rushing sound in his head.

How many times has he thought about Harry in his bed? Too many times. And now he’s there. But it’s not like that. They don’t have that kind of relationship.

Even though Draco wishes they do.

Once he’s under the covers too, they lie apart in an awkward silence. Harry is the one who breaks it, sliding close and nudging at Draco until he rolls onto his side. Harry slides up close behind him, hooking an arm over his waist and settling his head on Draco’s pillow. So close he can feel the warm gusts of Harry’s breath on the back of his neck.

Even with his heart racing, even with his thoughts turning, Draco’s body melts into Harry’s embrace. Like it does every time Harry holds him, or touches him. Like every night they’ve fallen asleep on the common room couches, propped up side by side.

Like the nights Draco had been angry, and tired, and scared, and wanting one drink, _just one_ , to numb the pain a little. Yelling at Harry, spewing insults that were harsh and unfair. Undoing all the progress they had made together, only for Harry to pull him into a tight hug. Even then, even in all that anger and fear, Draco had always melted into his touch.

“It’s going to be so nice to sleep in for once,” Harry murmurs, pulling Draco back into the here and now.

He’s like a warm blanket wrapped around him. Draco slides his hand down the arm Harry has hooked over his waist, until he finds his hand. Easily, and without hesitation, Harry’s fingers part so Draco’s can slide between them, his palm covering the back of Harry’s hand. The one with the scars on it.

_I must not tell lies._

“It’s going to be nice not to feel like my back is out of alignment from that bloody couch,” he answers, enjoying the way Harry chuckles against the back of his neck in response.

Warm and comfortable, and with no chance of being stumbled upon, Draco thinks it’s the nicest way they’ve fallen asleep yet.

 

* * *

 

When he wakes up, they’ve moved in the night. The first thing he sees is Harry’s face, and he panics.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

It just claws its way out of him, and there’s no taking it back. He’s never even thought it to himself, but now he’s saying it, and he knows it’s true. All the nights of waking up terrified of what’s in his head, or all the nights staring at the ceiling, playing over parts of his life and trying find a way forward that might make him happy, and then after all the ways Harry’s turned those nights around into something pleasant, how could he not? He probably would never have gotten sober if Harry hadn’t been there with him on all the nights he couldn’t sleep and wanted to drink.

But falling asleep in a bed, with Harry right there next to him, just seems to have opened the floodgate.

He loves him. He loves Harry bloody Potter, whose eyes open to meet his.

“I mean... that was…” He’s backpedalling with nowhere to go.

“Draco…” There’s hesitation in his tone, and his brows are furrowing. Draco just can’t stand it.

He’s out of bed before he’s even thought of what to do next. “Forget it,” he says, grabbing his robes, and pulling them on over his sleepwear. If he buttons them up, no one will know, and he can sneak back in later to change. When Harry’s gone. Grabbing his shoes, he crosses the room.

“Wait!”

But Draco doesn’t wait. He’s already out the door.

 

* * *

 

“Did you prank Potter and not tell us?” Pansy asks, crowding close and looking across the hall.

Draco keeps his eye on his food. “Pranked myself is more accurate,” he mutters.

“What?”

“Never mind,” he says, wishing his heart would calm down, and that the morning would stop playing behind his eyes every single moment. “Do you want to practise those charms today?”

Pansy groans. “I want to go back in time and not come back this year,” she says dramatically. “I swear they’re working us harder this year!”

Draco wants to wish the same. That he hadn’t come back. That he hadn’t just ruined the best thing he had going for him. But if he hadn’t come back, he’d still be drinking too much and running on no sleep until he passed out. Only to wake and repeat the process.

He looks up before he can stop himself, and sees that Harry is glaring down at the table as if it personally offended him.

He can’t eat with his stomach twisting, so he drags Pansy away to practise charms. Her grumbling is a small distraction, at least.

 

* * *

 

Sleep won’t come. It’s a mercy, in that it’s an escape from nightmares. But it’s also infuriating. In his empty, dark room, all he can do is think as he waits to fall asleep. And all he thinks about is Harry. After saying it, and knowing it to be true, he’s trying to pinpoint when he fell in love with the git.

But he just can’t.

Maybe it was when they were drunk, arguing and then falling asleep together. Maybe it was when he would wake up miserable with a hangover and trembling from a nightmare, and unlike that long, awful summer, he wasn’t alone. Maybe it was during those long nights of wanting to drink, and fearing sleep. When Harry would sit with him in the common room, or find him wandering the halls, and bicker with him, let Draco hurl insults, but give back just as much. When he’d pull him into a tight hug, and just hold him while he cried. He kept Draco sane through that when his friends had been asleep, and he couldn’t bear to wake them.

Maybe he’s been falling in love this entire time.

All along, he’s known he wanted more from Harry. The more they’d done what they were doing, the more Draco wanted to press closer, hold him tighter, kiss his cheeks, or his neck. He’s tried so hard not to want to kiss him properly that he’s almost convinced himself it doesn’t even count if it isn’t on the lips.

But he can’t ignore it now. He’s in love with Harry, and before he could even come to terms with realising that, he’d gone and said it out loud.

In a fit of petulance, he thinks it was incredibly rude of Harry to have been awake instead of sleeping when he’d said it.

Just as he turns over to his other side, for the hundredth time that night, there's the quiet rattle of his door handle, and then the quiet click of the door opening and shutting.

His heart starts pounding as Harry crosses the room and then climbs into his bed. He wonders if he should kick him out, but what can he say? That he doesn’t want him there? He’s already spoiled that excuse.

“There are some things you don’t know about me,” Harry says softly, as he settles close, but not touching.

“Like what?” Draco asks, because the silence feels too heavy.

“I’m not sure I can give you what you want.”

Draco’s face heats. “You don’t know what I want.”

“I’m... when it comes to… it’s just that—”

“Still haven’t had those lessons in how to converse yet, I see,” Draco says, having no idea what Harry is trying to say, and not sure he wants to. A simple rejection would be easier. If it’s something complicated, if Harry tries to complicate it, then he’s sure it will be worse.

“Piss off, this is hard to say!” Harry snaps, sitting up and wandlessly lighting the candles so he can look down at him.

Draco wants to sit up too, but stays lying on his back, pretending he’s relaxed and not completely freaking out.

“You can’t top what I said this morning,” he mutters.

Harry looks away.

“Just forget about it,” Draco says. “Just lie down and go to sleep. Or piss off. I don’t care.”

Harry turns to look back at him with a serious expression. “You do care. Don’t pull that crap with me.”

“Well, what then?” Draco hisses. “Just say it so we can…”

“Get past it?” Harry offers, when Draco can’t find the words.

“Something like that,” Draco says, his stomach sinking at the thought of how painful it will be to go forward knowing that Harry knows how he feels, but doesn’t feel the same. To have it constantly hanging between them.

He wishes again that he’d never said anything.

“I don’t want that,” Harry says, and unlike his mumbling mess before, he sounds firm on that. “I don’t want anything to change.”

“Sorry to spoil your hopes then.”

“Oh, quit the pessimistic statements would you!”

“Say your piece then!”

“Fine!” Harry snaps. “I’m not interested in sex!”

Draco stares up at him, and Harry looks away, his cheeks darkening a little in a flush. His whole body is rigid, like he’s moments from springing from the bed and running away. He probably is. He looks the way he’d used to, when they’d first started falling asleep together, back when they’d both tried to pretend they hadn’t liked it.

“So you’re not interested,” Draco says coolly. “You could have just said that like a civilised person, instead of yelling it at me. You really do need ‘Conversations for Idiots’, if such a thing exists.”

Harry makes an annoyed sound, and a gesture that looks more helpless than annoyed.

“What?” Draco hisses. “I don’t speak in idiotic gestures. Use words!”

“I am interested in you. In more,” Harry says, somewhat angrily. “Just…”

Draco frowns. “Just not sex?”

Harry groans, and flops onto his back. “I don’t even know.”

“Then how the fuck do you expect me to understand?”

Harry rolls onto his side and reaches across. Draco holds his breath as Harry brushes the pad of one finger over his lips. The sensation makes his skin tingle.

“I want some things, but not... not others,” Harry says. “I like what we’ve been doing. I’ve wanted to kiss you more than once. But when it comes to sex, it’s just… I’m not interested. I don’t want it. But relationships, they’re all about sex, so…”

Draco catches his hand. “But what about feelings?” He detests that word, and detests the fact he opened himself up to using it. But he just needs to know. Each frantic beat of his heart is in anticipation of hearing Harry feels the same, and the next beat in fear of hearing that he doesn’t.

“That’s never been a problem for me,” Harry admits quietly. “But I’ve learned it’s strange and abnormal to want one and not the other. This way at least. The other way around is apparently fine.”

He sounds aggravated by that, but then seems to shake his head a little. “I’m working on that. Not that I talk to anyone about it. That wouldn’t help. I already get enough shit about not being interested in sex like everyone else is.”

“I never asked for sex,” Draco says, feeling it should be said. “I never asked for anything. I just…”

“Told me that you’re in love with me?” Harry raises an eyebrow. “It’s implied.”

Draco looks away, back at the ceiling. He can feel that he’s frowning, but he’s not even sure what he’s feeling.

“Do you never get aroused then?” he asks, feeling his face heat. “You’re… grossed out by sex?”

Being fair, sometimes he feels a little sickened hearing about it from Pansy. But then, she does that deliberately. Tells him all the graphic details, and laughs at the expressions he makes.

Harry shifts a little closer, until they’re both lying on their backs, and they’re touching all down their sides. The contact makes Draco relax even though he’s sure he’s in the process of having his heart broken.

“Not grossed out, just not interested,” Harry corrects. “I get… sometimes. I mean, it’s biology, right? Have to just deal with it sometimes.”

Draco feels a bit hot even hearing an implication of Harry wanking. “So you wank. We all wank. What’s so different about sex then?”

“Are you mocking me?” Harry asks softly, sounding hurt.

It makes Draco’s stomach twist, and by Merlin, how has he gone so long without realising he’s in love with the silly twat? He’d once sought out ways to hurt him, and now even the slightest hint of hurt in Harry’s expression or tone makes his own chest ache.

“No. Just curious. Just… trying to understand.” He feels he owes Harry that much, for putting them in this situation. For not just enjoying what they’ve been doing. For always wanting more.

“Can we just…”

Draco closes his eyes, and sighs, trying to let go of all the things he still wants to ask. Trying to let go of the fact Harry never really made it clear that he didn’t want _something_ from him, aside from not wanting sex.

“Yeah,” he says, before whispering the incantation to spell out the candles.

The room falls dark, and Harry sighs too. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

Draco thinks he should say the same, and rolls onto his side to rest his head on Harry’s chest, throwing an arm over his chest.

“Can I do this?” he asks softly.

“Yes,” Harry whispers back, taking him seriously, instead of making a joke like Draco half expected.

Draco closes his eyes tightly.

They both lie awake for a long time. Harry doesn’t leave, and Draco still doesn’t want him to.

 

* * *

 

Nothing really changes, Draco realises, as Harry catches him with a tripping jinx on his way into Transfiguration, and he gets him back with a tickling charm in Herbology.

He spends more time thinking about what Harry might mean by everything he’d said, and after some of the confusion wanes, he remembers Harry had said he wants to kiss him sometimes. But Harry never does, even though they start sleeping in Draco’s bed every night. Everything's the same, even if Draco’s feelings still hang between them.

He’s afraid to bring it all up again, afraid to go back to sleeping alone. Worse, he’s afraid that too much will change, that they’ll start fighting again, and not in the enjoyable way they do now. Worst of all, he fears Harry might just ignore him completely.

But it stays on his mind.

 

* * *

 

It’s dark and quiet in his room. Long past midnight, but not yet dawn. They’re both awake. Draco can tell from the way Harry is breathing. Sometimes they just don’t sleep. But at least they’re not alone. It’s still comforting. It’s still restful.

Unless Draco spoils it. But he’s already decided he needs to say something.

“If you want to kiss me sometimes, why don’t you?” he asks, glad that it’s dark, and Harry won’t be able to see the heat he can feel turning his cheeks pink.

“A kiss is never just a kiss,” Harry murmurs.

“A kiss is whatever you make it, idiot.”

“And what about when you want more? If I’ve already kissed you, then it’s only one step more to touch you. How hard can it be, right?”

Draco sits up and spells the candles lit. “After everything we’ve both been through, do you honestly think I’d pressure you like that?” he asks, feeling half offended, and half terrified that Harry actually believes that.

If Harry actually believes that, then maybe Draco’s been reading more into what they’ve been doing this entire time, and they weren’t even really friends.

Harry seems to have the good sense to look ashamed, and it soothes Draco’s ire a little, even if he still feels shaken from the thought.

“You’ll want sex eventually,” Harry says quietly. “Everyone does.”

“Not everyone,” Draco mutters. “You can’t, so there must be others.”

“I could if I was drunk,” Harry says, sounding defensive. “I have before. It’s not like I can’t do it. I can. I just don’t ever want to.”

Draco lets that sink in for a moment. “I don’t know where to begin with everything that’s wrong with what you just said.”

Harry makes an angry sound and sits up, but Draco grabs his arm and pulls him back down.

“Don’t leave. Please.”

Harry freezes, and then settles back. Draco’s only said ‘please’ to him three times, and each time was far harder than this. This was easy.

“Harry, can we just…”

Making a helpless gesture towards the ceiling, Draco sits up and looks down at him.

“Can you stop thinking ahead and assuming what may or may not happen, and think about right now?” he asks.

“What do you mean?” Harry asks, still sounding defensive.

Draco reaches out and touches his cheek. His own hand is shaking, and it makes his face burn from embarrassment, but he drifts his fingertips over Harry’s cheek and down his jaw. It’s the first time he’s really touched him like that, and his heart is racing.

“Do you have any feelings for me? You just keep saying you don’t want sex, but you said you want to kiss me. I’m confused.”

Three months ago, he would have laughed at the idea that he could be so honest with Harry, but after spending so many sleepless nights together, sometimes recovering from nightmares together, and all the horror of Draco’s transition to sobriety, it was so easy now. Even if it is still terrifying at times.

Harry stares at him. “Yeah, I do. But—”

“No buts!” Draco interrupts, thinking quickly. “Just… just think about right now. Don’t think about days or weeks from now. Don’t even think about ten minutes from now. Only right now.”

“Why?”

He sounds scared, and Draco feels scared with him. He’s acting like he has a clue what to do, but he doesn’t. He’s never even kissed anyone before. Well, there were a few snogs with Blaise when they were younger, but he doesn’t really count them, they were only practising. But he certainly hasn’t done more, and Harry, even if he says he doesn’t want sex, still has more experience than Draco. He’s itching to know the details of that, but he doesn’t think Harry will tell him.

Swallowing down his fear, Draco follows his own advice, and thinks only of now.

“Tell me what you want,” he whispers, hoping that it’s _something_. “Tell me what you want to do. Tell me what you don’t. Just for right now.”

“It all leads to—”

Draco cuts him off with a hand over his mouth. “Don’t worry about what it leads to,” he says firmly. “I won’t do anything you don’t want to, so it won’t get that far.”

Harry looks at him with scepticism, and Draco feels it a bit himself. He can’t lie and say he doesn’t want sex. He’s wanked to the thought of Harry enough mornings after they’ve parted to know he wants it. But he wants what they have now to continue more. He’s not so self-destructive now that he can ignore how much Harry means to him. Even if that makes him a pathetic sentimental sod.

Harry tugs Draco’s hand off his mouth. “What if I just want to go to sleep?” he asks defensively.

Draco tries not to let his disappointment show. It’s still better than Harry leaving, and he’ll cling to that.

“Then we sleep,” he answers.

Harry stares at him for a few moments. “And if I want to kiss you in the morning?”

Draco has to fight to stop himself from leaning forward and kissing him now. “Then you kiss me in the morning.”

Harry’s gaze flicks down to his lips, and then travels his body. “What if we kiss so long you want more?” he challenges.

“Then I’ll take myself off to the bathroom for a wank,” Draco says, feeling heat flood his cheeks at the thought of how mortifying that would be, Harry knowing exactly what he was doing in there. Feeling embarrassed to even say it. “If it gets to that.”

Harry is thinking ahead again, but Draco feels like he’s saying the right things. Harry seems to be relaxing again, at least.

“What if you want more?” Harry persists.

“I don’t know, Harry,” Draco admits, wondering what he’s got himself into, and wishing they would just go to sleep and deal with it later. Or kiss. Or just… Whatever they do, he doesn’t want Harry to leave. “I’m figuring this out as we go.”

“Then you can’t know it’s not going to fail horribly!”

“When have you ever done something only when you know exactly how it’s going to turn out?” Draco scoffs. “You can’t just say it won’t work out without even trying.”

“You do that all the time, you pessimistic prat,” Harry says.

“I see you’re working on your alliteration, like I suggested,” Draco says, playing for time. He’s dug himself into a hole, and can’t see the way out.

“Can we just drop this and go to sleep?”

Draco sighs, and nods. “But can you at least consider trying to be something more, and figuring it out as we go? What we’ve been doing until now hasn’t ever been completely platonic anyway, it’s not like much has to change. If you want to kiss me, I want you to. It doesn’t have to go past that.”

Harry spells the lights out, and Draco lies down heavily. They’re not touching and it bothers him, but he’s just lucky Harry hasn’t stormed out.

Maybe he should never have said anything, but he had confessed his feelings without thinking and has to deal with all somehow.

“You’re right that it’s not been completely platonic until now,” Harry whispers from across the bed. “But if we actually… I just don’t want to make you unhappy.”

Draco’s chest feels a bit tight. “Let me worry about that.”

“Would you even tell me if it wasn’t working for you?” Harry asks softly, sounding a bit scared again. “If we… if we go moment by moment like you suggested?”

Probably not, Draco thinks. He doesn’t want to make Harry unhappy either. Not after everything Harry has done for him this year, and with everything Harry means to him now. “You know me well enough. I won’t have to tell you,” he says, seeing a way around lying.

Harry is silent for a long time, but Draco can tell he’s still awake, his breathing too fast for sleep. He wishes he could take back his confession. That they were still just falling asleep on couches and alcoves in corridors. It was easier then. Now there’s a tension between them, and it’s Draco’s fault.

“Alright then,” Harry says at last. “But if you want more, please go find yourself someone who can give it to you.”

Draco wants to reach across and touch him, to give him a pinch for saying something so ridiculous. Instead, he stays where he is.

“Don’t ever make yourself do anything with me unless you want to,” he says firmly, thinking back to what Harry had said. “Getting drunk just so you can make yourself have sex with someone sounds like—”

“Well it worked,” Harry interrupts. “Easier to just go with it.”

“That’s not right, Harry,” Draco says, feeling shaken by it, and not quite sure why.

“I’d never be drunk around you now anyway,” Harry whispers, like even suggesting it might upset him. “Not after how hard you worked to stop drinking. I wouldn't do that to you.”

Draco sighs. “Just… only what you want to, when you want to.”

There’s a long silence, and then Harry shuffles closer. “Can I kiss you now?”

Draco’s heart starts to race all over again. “Do you really want to?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, before his hands find Draco’s face in the darkness, and drift down until they’re tracing his lips. “I’ve wanted to for ages. I don’t know what it means, but I do like kissing.”

“Well go on then,” Draco prompts, his voice shaking. “The suspense is killing me.”

Harry chuckles, and the sound is much closer. Draco can feel his breath over his cheek. “We can’t have that,” Harry murmurs, as their noses bump.

It’s really nothing. Barely more than a peck. Their lips brush, slightly off-centre, and Harry’s fingers are sliding over his jaw to tilt his head a little. It’s over before Draco can even really begin to catalogue the feel of Harry’s lips on his, but it’s still enough to keep his heart racing, and spread heat throughout his body.

“Just the one,” Harry murmurs, settling his body half over Draco’s in a sprawl, resting his head on Draco’s chest. “Okay?”

Feeling embarrassingly sentimental, Draco has to bite his lip viciously to stop himself from saying something stupid. He hums his agreement instead, and Harry relaxes against him.

 

* * *

 

Harry kisses him again in the morning. A little more than a peck, and still over all too soon. But Draco says nothing of that, because it’s still more than he expects. With the way Harry tenses and relaxes before and after, it’s like he’s afraid of something. Maybe afraid Draco will demand more and then leave when he doesn’t get it.

It only makes Draco burn with the need to find out more about this person Harry got drunk and had sex with.

At least he knows Harry can have sex, he supposes, but the idea of pushing makes him feel ill. Theo used to push him to talk about the war, and it used to make him feel sick and send his mind to dark places. It was one of the reasons he’d accepted the comfort he had found with Harry. He’d never pushed Draco to talk. They’d fight and bicker, and then fall asleep. Sometimes Harry had told him a thing or two, but he’d never demanded anything in return.

And he’d always listened if Draco had decided to tell him anything, without ever pushing for more than Draco was willing to say, even when it was about a part of their past that they shared, that Harry might want to know more about.

It hardly compares to something like sex, but the thought of pushing… he doesn’t think he can ever do it.

 

* * *

 

A couple of weeks later, after making a rude hand gesture at Harry across the hall, and getting an even ruder one in return, it suddenly seems so stupid that no one even knows they’re friends. No one knows any of it. He’s never heard even the slightest hint of suspicion from his friends, or anyone else. Not since he had stopped drinking, and they’d been more careful about getting caught.

He’s gone and fallen in love with Harry and somehow started some sort of relationship with him, even if they both don’t really know what they’re doing, and yet no one knows.

It shouldn’t make him feel so shaken, but it does. And try as he might, he can’t stop thinking about it.

 

* * *

 

Harry blinks at him when Draco takes the seat next to him in charms.

“What are you—”

“Can I sit with you?” Draco asks, his heart in his throat. He feels like he’s crossing some sort of line, but it feels important. Necessary.

“Okay,” Harry says, slow and suspicious, like he’s trying to figure out what prank Draco is pulling.

But Draco doesn’t pull any pranks, and Harry doesn’t either. Weasley and Granger sit nearby, and look at them every now and then with confusion, but everything carries on.

Draco has Arithmancy next, and Harry has Care of Magical Creatures, even though it’s a complete joke of a subject.

With a shaking hand, he writes a note and pushes it across the table. He can barely breathe when Harry opens it.

_Can I kiss you after class?_

Harry reads it in silence, and then, after a few torturous moments, scribbles something down, and pushes it back over. Draco’s hands shake as he opens it.

_We don’t have time to get somewhere private._

Draco swallows heavily, and writes his next words carefully. His hand is shaking enough that his handwriting looks a bit wobbly.

_In the hallway?_

Harry stares at that for three minutes, Draco counts, and he just wants to snatch the note back and burn it. He feels ridiculous. Harry probably doesn’t even want people knowing. He hadn’t wanted anyone to know they fell asleep together, even though it had had been completely innocent. It isn’t fair of Draco to change the rules in the middle of class without talking about it first. He suddenly feels like scum.

But Harry writes a reply and pushes it back.

_You want everyone to know? Even though it might never go anywhere? Even though it’s not normal?_

Draco stares at the words, and feels completely out of his depth. But time is running out, and they only have a few minutes of class left. He quickly scribbles the first thing that comes to mind, and barely stops himself from incinerating the note.

_It’s already somewhere good. Why are we pretending we still hate each other? I’m in love with you. I’m not ashamed of that._

“Normal is a point of view,” he says softly, as Harry reads it. “The details are no one’s business.”

Maybe if they stay where they are forever, it won’t be enough, but it feels like enough for now.

His cheeks start to burn as he realises he should have written that down instead of mentioning his feelings again. That sounds much better than what he actually wrote.

Harry starts to write something, but then the class ends. He crumples the paper and shoves it in his pocket.

Unsure what to do, Draco packs slowly and then walks out a few steps behind Harry, as Weasley and Granger flank him. He can hear them asking why they sat together, but Harry doesn’t answer, as he looks over his shoulder at Draco.

They pass through the doorway and into the hall, and Draco’s heart races as Harry stops and turns to him.

“I forgot to ask,” Harry says loudly, stepping closer. “Did you want to go flying after class? There’s some time before dinner.”

Draco can see people taking note of Harry talking to him without insults flying. He supposes it makes the fact they sat together even stranger, if they weren’t pranking each other.

“Sure, I’m always eager to kick your arse at something,” he replies, cursing the way his voice shakes.

Harry smiles, his gaze darting around a bit. “Great, meet me in the common room after last class.”

Just when Draco thinks that’s it, Harry quickly leans forward and presses their lips together for just a moment. He hovers close afterwards and Draco can hear his next inhale catch on a stutter.

“I hope you’re ready for what’s going to happen because of that,” Harry says.

Draco kisses him back, just a quick peck again, but enough to be sure everyone knows it’s not a one-sided thing. He can’t bear the idea of Harry having to face anyone saying something like that, and having Draco’s lack of reciprocation act like proof.

“Can’t be any harder than that first morning we woke up with our heads gone to hell from hangovers, realising we’d fallen asleep on each other mid-fight,” he says quietly, with a nervous laugh.

Harry seems surprised, but then laughs as well. “Can I tell Ron about that now? He’ll laugh his arse off.”

Draco looks past him to where Weasley and Granger are staring at them with wide eyes. He’s always thought they knew that much at least. The fact Harry never told them makes his lips ache with the need to grin, but he holds it back.

“Tell him whatever you like,” he tells Harry. “We’re not some strange, dirty secret.”

Harry looks like he doesn’t know how to feel about that, but then Granger says something loud about being late for class, and he grimaces.

“Your timing is shit,” he mutters.

“I know you work well under pressure,” Draco laughs. “See you after class.”

Harry turns to leave, but then turns back, stepping close again. “You’re serious about this then?” he asks urgently. “Really serious?”

It’s like letting people know means more to him than anything Draco has said so far.

“I told you I was in love with you, you stupid prat. _Before_ the kissing,” Draco whispers, feeling his face heat even though no one is close enough to hear. “What did you think that meant? It wasn’t about what I might get from you, it was about what I already had with you!”

Harry looks helpless, but Draco just gives him a little push, wanting to put distance between them after saying something like that. Something so sentimental. So true. Something that could so easily be turned against him, if it was anyone other than Harry. “Hagrid won’t care if you’re late, but Professor Vector hands out detentions, and it’s up on the seventh floor. I’ll see you later. Have fun making Weasley suffocate from laughing too hard.”

Without waiting for a response, and well aware that many people are standing around watching their exchange instead of going to their next class, Draco turns and heads for the shortcut to the seventh floor. He can feel that his face is red, that his hands are shaking, and knowing that Granger will be in the same class, he wants to put distance between them before she can say anything to him.

 

* * *

 

It isn’t until they’re landing after a seeker match that Harry even says anything about it. They met up, and he just talked about the match all the way down to the pitch. It had Draco’s stomach twisting, wondering if he’d pushed too far, even though he’d been sure Harry would have refused to kiss him in public if he didn’t want to.

But now they’re landing, and Harry sucks in a deep breath like he’s about to say something important, so Draco just prepares as best he can.

“I’m in love with you too,” Harry says, in a rush. “I have been for a while.”

Draco’s face grows hot, his stomach goes a bit fluttery, but he has no idea how to respond to that, which makes Harry’s reaction when he’d said it make more sense. Maybe Harry had been rude in being awake to hear it, but perhaps Draco had been a bit rude to just spring it on him like that in the first place. Even though he’d certainly not planned to.

“I didn’t want to say anything because… It’s just… I’m just… I’m still not sure this is going to work,” Harry continues, slowing down a little. “But moment by moment. I can do that. If you’re really happy now, with just this so far, and no great chance of more. Because there might not be more. I don’t know. I just know I never want it, even if I can do it.”

Draco sucks in a breath and tries to think clearly, but it’s a bit difficult. “Was wanting to make this public really that meaningful?” he asks, instead of restarting all the things they’ve already said about the rest.

Harry looks away and kicks the ground with the toe of his shoe. “You’re not one to let people see your failures, or do anything publicly if you think you might fail and embarrass yourself,” he mutters.

Draco bites his lip. He’s done plenty of stupid things in public that failed spectacularly, and all to do with Harry. He’s always been a bit stupid when it comes to Harry, but pointing that out now is counterproductive.

“How red did Weasley turn?” Draco asks, unable to think of what else to say without embarrassing himself terribly.

Harry grins, jumping on the distraction. “Like a tomato. It gave Hagrid a scare.”

“He wasn’t a git about it, was he?” Draco asks, suddenly worried. Weasley could be an utter prat sometimes. Draco doesn’t want to be part of any reason Harry feels bad anymore.

“Nah,” Harry says, waving off his concern. “He knew something was going on before now, and is surprised it’s this, but finds the idea of those early days hilarious enough to outweigh anything else. Wishes he’d seen more of it.”

“It was a bit ridiculous,” Draco admits with a laugh. “All that fighting, and then falling asleep together only to fight again in the morning. Usually about falling asleep together.”

“That’s because you’re an oversensitive git,” Harry laughs. “It took you forever to admit you liked the sleeping part.”

“Pot. Kettle,” Draco says with a glare. “You were just as bad.”

Harry grins, and then wraps an arm around his shoulder and starts to pull him along towards the castle.

“It worked out though, didn’t it?” Harry says, as they near the castle. “Even when you were a mess trying to stop drinking all the time.”

Draco holds the hand that’s draped over his shoulder. Maybe one day he’ll tell Harry more about how much that all meant to him. They mention it from time to time, but they’ve never really talked about it. It was too hard at the time, and he just hopes Harry knows how much his help meant from the way Draco didn’t hide his recovery from him. “It’ll keep working out.”

“I wish I was as sure as you sound,” Harry admits.

Draco shrugs. “We’ll figure it out. If not, then we don’t. I’d rather not worry about the future before it gets here. I’ve had enough of that in my life.”

Harry pauses, and looks up at the castle looming over them. “I never thought about it like that,” he says softly. “Worrying about the future has kind of been unavoidable for me.”

“Maybe you should give it a proper go,” Draco suggests.

Harry meets his gaze, and then his gaze lowers. “Can I kiss you?”

“You don’t have to ask every time,” Draco huffs, leaning over and giving him a peck. “I doubt I’ll ever say no.”

Harry kisses him back, and then starts tugging them along again. “I will. Sometimes. Maybe often.”

Draco wraps his other arm around Harry’s waist as their hips brush with each step. “I’m okay with that. As long as you’re always clear with me about what you’re okay with, and ask me to stop when you want me to.”

Some kisses are better than no kisses. And no kisses, but still having Harry there, is better than not having him at all. Whenever Draco thinks about that, he thinks he can face anything Harry asks of him, and any boundaries he sets. As long as they continue with what they’ve been doing so far.

Harry sighs. “I’m still worried this won’t work.”

“That’s how everyone feels with relationships,” Draco says firmly. “You’re no different from everyone else, you know. In the ways that matter.”

That sounds a lot worse out loud than it had in his head, and Draco wants to elaborate. Explain that he means sex doesn’t matter, that feelings do. That Harry’s not abnormal for his lack of interest in sex, even if Draco doesn’t really understand it himself, but normal for his worries about things not working. But Harry doesn’t seem upset.

“In the ways that matter,” he echoes softly, with a small smile touching the corners of his mouth, as if he understands Draco’s meaning anyway. They enter the castle, still holding each other.

**Author's Note:**

> I chose to approach the theme of consent in a way that highlights its importance in a relationship before and outside of sex. To highlight that different people have different views about sex, and different boundaries and desires, and that this can and should be discussed in advance of it, especially in a situation where there might be a strong difference in how the two people see sex and its importance in a relationship. Outside of sex, I also chose to touch on how consent can be important for other aspects of a relationship, checking in with boundaries before taking new steps, respecting someone's discomfort and asking if non-sexual contact is okay, and respecting verbal boundaries and dropping discussions when it is made clear they are making someone uncomfortable.
> 
> Beta'd by E.


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